


A Series of (Un)fortunate Events

by DarkkBluee



Series: Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Endearments, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Contract, magical guardian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/pseuds/DarkkBluee
Summary: Prompt by Dorea on Tomarry Discord: After Sirius died, by a series of very unfortunate events that Dumbledore could not have foreseen, Voldemort somehow becomes Harry's legal guardian.





	A Series of (Un)fortunate Events

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/gifts).



“Harry needs to go back to his relatives, does he?” Sirius grumbles as he enters Gringotts. “Albus requests Grimmauld as the safest place in London, for the Order, does he? But when I want to have Harry over for the holidays, he refuses. The nerve!”

 

“Harry needs the blood protection from his relatives, Sirius.” Remus consoles as he pats his friend’s back.

 

Sirius doesn’t reply as he shakes off Remus’s hand and talks to the goblin. The goblin asks them to follow him and they are shown to a private office.

 

“I want the key to Grimmauld place.” Sirius tells the goblin first thing, his tone borderline hostile.

 

“Oh? Finally taking your place as Lord Black?” The goblin snarls. He takes out a thick stack of paper. “Read and sign.”

 

Sirius scowls and picks up the quill to sign without reading it, but Remus pushes his hand away. The werewolf picks up the documents to read through them in place of his friend.

 

“Human, you will be Lord Black. Have you decided on an Heir? Narcissa Malfoy nee Black has been insistent that Gringotts appoint Draco Malfoy as Heir due to him being the only eligible male child in current generation.” The goblin asks.

 

“Draco? As Heir Black?” Sirius growls. “Over my dead body! I’ll disinherit the blonde ferret from the Black Family!”

 

“Excellent.” The goblin takes out another stack of papers. “We were waiting for that. Those blonde humans have applied so many appeals for that, it is slowing down our work. Read and sign.”

 

Remus sighs and takes the other documents too, without ever looking up from his perusal of the Black Lordship documents.

 

“And your Heir?” The goblin asks.

 

“Harry of course!” Sirius grins, his mood lightening just thinking of the boy, who looks so much like James with Lily’s eyes. A perfect combination of his parents.

 

“There is no relation to allow Harry Potter to become your Heir.” The goblin warns. “While we at Gringotts recognize the fact that no trial means no conviction, and hence you are still the boy’s magical guardian, the Ministry won’t accept it. To them, Albus Dumbledore is his Magical Guardian. To them, you are no longer related to the boy in any way and hence, Gringotts won’t be able to pass on your property that is in Ministry control.”

 

“I have let Albus decide to send Harry back to those muggles, but making decisions whether I’m allowed to name Harry my Heir? I won’t stand for it!” Sirius growls again. “I will adopt him as my son! Let’s see if anyone can still deny Harry his right.”

 

“Sirius, we talked about this.” Remus chides. He has gone over the first set of documents and is now looking at the other. Both the human and goblin ignore the werewolf.

 

“You need Harry Potter’s permission to adopt him.” The goblin points out and Sirius grins.

 

“Not if I have his blood, willingly given. James and me coaxed some blood from baby Harry on his first birthday. Just in case of emergency situations.” Sirius grins. “Draw up the documents goblin. Harry will be my adopted son and Heir before I leave Gringotts today.”

 

“Excellent.” The goblin takes out another stack of paper. “Here are the Heirship and adoption papers. Read them, write the names, sign with blood and it is done.”

 

Remus sighs but takes this new set of documents again. Sirius signs the Lordship papers that Remus has put aside as verified.

 

“To the next point, Lord Black. You do not seem to be in excellent health and hazards outside are numerous. A Will? Also, who will take care of your Heir in case of your untimely demise?” The goblin takes out a globe to record Sirius’s Will.

 

“Oh? Who will take care of Harry? That will be Harry’s relatives, of course. Safe enough there, better than Grimmauld place even! Grimmauld is the best protected place in London, enough for the Order. But no! Not for Harry! Harry has to be with his relatives, who’re the only ones capable of providing him with Magical Protection.” SIrius grumbles.

 

“Sirius…” Remus looks up sharply. “Behave.”

 

“Which relatives?” The goblin asks for clarification, the globe turned on for recording. “James’s relatives, Lily’s relatives or his godparent’s relatives?”

 

“Lily’s relatives. God no, will I ever pass on Harry’s guardianship to James’s or his godparents relatives. Neither the Travers, from James’s mother Euphemia nor the Black’s from my side are capable of being Harry’s guardians, slimy Death Eaters all of them! In fact, put that in writing, never is Harry to go to any Death Eaters!” Sirius snarls.

 

Remus sighs, but leaves the dog animagus and goblin to hash out the details. He just knew it was going to be a long day.

 

**********

 

Harry was waiting patiently for Dumbledore to get to the reason why he had suddenly visited him at the Dursleys. Sirius’s death seems like a lifetime ago, yet the wounds were still open as if made yesterday.

 

“Harry, my boy.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this, but I’ll try my best. Please Harry, you must keep calm and listen to the end. Don’t blame Sirius, for it is not his fault, but the result of my own actions.”

 

“Professor.” Harry hesitated before patting the Headmaster’s knee. “I’m sure you didn’t mean for whatever has happened to happen. I mean, you did keep the prophecy from me, but if I had been better, tried harder to learn Occlumency, then Sirius wouldn’t have died. So it is not your fault alone.”

 

“Harry, oh Harry.” Dumbledore gives a shaky smile. “That is not what I meant, but thank you for the reassurance. No, no. I fear we must start from the beginning. Sirius’s Will reading was yesterday.”

 

“Oh.” Harry says, his breath knocked out of him by the reminder of his godfather. “What, what happened?”

 

“I was there as your magical guardian. So were Narcissa, Draco, Remus, Andromeda, Nymphadora and Bellatrix.” Dumbledore continues in a gentle tone.

 

“Bellatrix!” Harry snarls, anger taking over his grief. “Why was she there?! She is the reason Sirius died, she shouldn’t have been there!”

 

“She was there as the legal representative of...someone.” Dumbledore fibs. “Let me finish Harry, all will be made clear at the end.”

 

“Like the prophecy was made clear at the end! After Sirius died! What else are you hiding?! Who else must die before you get to the point?!” Harry shouts.

 

Silence rings true after his words and Dumbledore looks shocked.

 

“I never… I’m so sorry, Harry.” He whispers. Harry takes in deep breaths and clenches his hand.

 

“No. I’m sorry Headmaster. It’s still a little too raw for me. Please, continue.” He says and clenches his eyes shut to control his emotions.

 

“Very well.” Dumbledore continues. “The Will started with bequeathments to Remus, Andromeda and Tonks, disinheriting Narcissa, Draco and Bellatrix from the Family and preventing their line from any possible inheritance. Then he made you his Heir.”

 

“He made me his Heir?” Harry whispers. He opens his eyes and gives a small smile. “Really?” Those big, green, pleading eyes turn to the elder wizard.

 

“Yes, Harry.” Dumbledore smiles back. “He even made sure to adopt you formally, making you his son.”

 

“Sirius as my father?” Harry’s smile widens. “He never told me that. But I’m glad. We really were family, there at the end.”

 

“While that is nice, this brings us to the next problem. You see Harry, by adopting you as his son, it allowed him to make you his Heir. But it also allowed him to decide who your guardians were going to be in case of his death. His Will and decisions supersedes James and Lily’s.” Dumbledore looks grave while a tentative hope blooms in Harry’s chest.

 

“I won’t have to stay with the Dursley’s.” Harry smiles wider. “I won’t have to stay with the Dursley’s! This is great news.” He turns to the other man. “Why are you looking so grave, Professor? This is great news!”

 

“Harry, my boy. I’m so sorry.” Dumbledore takes a deep breath. “The problem isn’t that you can leave your aunt and uncle. The problem is in Sirius’s wording. According to him, your guardianship should go to Lily’s relatives who can ensure you a magical protection. Not James’s relatives, not Alice Longbottom’s relatives, not Sirius Black’s relatives. Lily’s relatives. One who is not a Death Eater.”

 

“So I still have to stay with Aunt Petunia?” Harry frowned. “She is mum’s sister and we share blood, ensuring a blood ward here.”

 

“No, my boy, no.” Dumbledore shakes his head. “While Petunia’s presence itself protects you, she cannot magically protect you. Hence even Petunia is disqualified.”

 

“There is only one person who fits this description. Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

 

As if on clue, the fireplace flashed green and a tall figure with red eyes and black coiffed hair stepped out.

 

“Dumbledore. How odd to see you here.” The man drawled. “After all, you are no longer the boy’s guardian.” He tall figure turned to the rapidly paling boy and sneered. “Pack up, boy. You’re coming with me.”

 

“How are you here?” Harry points at the man who looks like an older version of the Tom Riddle from the diary, but with red eyes. “You can’t be here. There are wards! And what do you mean I’m coming with you? I’m not! You can’t be my guardian! Sirius’s condition of my guardian not being a death eater should disqualify you too. Tell him, Professor!” He looks at the Headmaster pleading.

 

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Harry.” Dumbledore doesn’t look at Harry. “I tried my best, but it is ironclad.”

 

“I’m your mother’s closest blood relative, who is also a wizard and is thus able to magically _protect_ you. I’m also not a Death Eater.” The Dark wizard scoff’s. “Now, Didn’t you hear me, Potter.” Voldemort grins. “Pack up.”

 

Harry is numb as he packs up and follows a sneering Dark Lord out of the home, Dumbledore looking on helplessly.

 

“Hold this.” The Dark Lord pushes a quill in his hand.

 

“What..?” Is all Harry can get out as he holds it. A tugging behind his navel makes him realize the quill is a portkey and stumbles as soon as he lands.

 

“Stand still boy!” Voldemort’s voice snaps Harry out of his stupor. “Come here!”

 

“What? Why? What do you want? Why am I here?!” Harry asks, fear and adrenaline pushing him forwards.

 

“Did you completely forget the last hour?” Voldemort sneers. “Now come here and hold still for me!”

 

“Wait…” Harry says as he realizes what is bothering him. “Why is my scar not hurting?”

 

“Because I’m your guardian now, Potter. I have to ensure your protection. I cannot kill you and you cannot kill me while this arrangement continues. I cannot even arrange for you to be harmed.” The Dark Lord growls. “I am as displeased by this situation as you, so rest assured that as soon as you turn 17, I will kill you. But until then, no one shall even harm a hair on your head. No one other than me, of course. I may not be able to kill you, but I sure can punish you.” The Dark Lord strides forwards and Harry back away, eventually hitting the wall.

 

“Stay still.” Voldemort growls, his fingers gripping Harry’s cheeks and raising his head to meet red eyes. “ _Legilimens_.”

 

Pain fills his mind and body as the Dark Lord rips into his mind. Memories after memories pass, from that fateful Halloween day when his parents died, to his cupboard under the stairs, Harry Hunting, the snake at the zoo, the troll, the diary, the basilisk, the pain becoming numb and his consciousness fading as the last of his memories are made visible to the man.

 

***********

 

Consciousness is slow to return to Harry, yet he perseveres and opens his eyes. The ceiling is painted blue and the sheets feel soft. It takes some time for Harry to remember he is no longer at the Dursley’s and in the _tender_ care of the Dark Lord.

 

“Master Harry bes awake. Master Lordy bes waiting for breakyfast. Minky will show the way.” A house elf pops and Harry just stares at it for a while.

 

“Yes.” He finally whispers to hear his own voice and ensure this is reality, not a dream. “Breakfast. Give me a minute. I’ll be ready.”

 

He stands and looks away from the shockingly well dressed house elf, stumbling to the bathroom and cleaning himself up. There are clothes his size in the closet and Harry puts on a blue shirt and maroon robes.

 

“Let’s go Minky. Breakfast please.” He tells, still half asleep, half shocked. The elf beams at the request and soon they’re at the dining hall. There is only the Dark Lord sitting at table, his looks no longer the healthy ones of Tom Riddle he remembers seeing at Privet Drive, but not the snakey ones from the graveyard either.

 

“Good morning, Harry.” The man looks up from his documents. “Sleep well?”

 

Harry doesn’t reply, shocked at the domesticity of the scene. He walks over to the man, where a plate has been set to his right and stares at him.

 

“You look… not snake like.” Harry says.

 

“Yes well, I am much better than the last to last time we met.” The Dark Lord raises a brow. “Sit and eat, Harry.”

 

“How?” He demands, but takes his seat.

 

“Magic.” Voldemort says and looks over at the elf. “Bring the breakfast now.” The elf nods and pops away even as food appears on their plates.

 

“Ha ha.” Harry snaps. “Very funny. What do you want with me?” Harry looks down and sees the food on his plate. “And can I have something other than fruit and boiled eggs?”

 

“For now, all I want is for you to stay with me. We shall revisit options after your 17th birthday. And no, eat your fruits, Harry. You’re used to small meals and your stomach has most likely shrunk because of your aunt’s treatment. Nothing greasy.” Voldemort chides softly. “You’re so thin, eggs will help build your musculature. And fruits for proper nutrition. Later on, we will add walks so you can get the required sunlight exposure.”

 

“Revisit options?” Harry snarls. “So polite. The last time we talked, you wanted to kill me as soon as I turned 17!”

 

“No longer.” Voldemort looks at the boy, red meeting green. “There will be punishment for disobedience, yes. But I no longer wish for your death.”

 

And ignoring Harry’s shocked look at this announcement, the Dark Lord scolds the boy again.

 

“Eat your fruits and eggs, Harry. I will not ask again. And oh!” The Dark Wizard continues “Are you allergic to anything? Because I need to know so I can arrange for a healthy diet and potions regime for you.”

 

Harry is pretty sure he is having a terrible nightmare where the Dark Lord doesn’t want to kill him and is concerned about arranging a diet plan for him.

 

**********

 

Weeks pass slowly, and the Dark Lord and his prophesied Vanquisher are still the only ones in the huge manor. The boy himself still feels like he is in a dream, for Voldemort has never been anything other than polite and caring towards him, and has decided to treat it as such.

 

It is only when the end of the summer break quickly approaches and there is still no sign of his Hogwarts letter or an impending shopping trip that Harry decides to approach Voldemort.

 

“Did my Hogwarts letter come yet?” He asks the Dark Lord. “The term is starting soon and I need new school robes.”

 

“You’re not going to Hogwarts.” The Dark Lord tells him. “I need you here, right where I can see you and protect you.”

 

It is this that breaks Harry from his dream-like state and he snaps.

 

“I am going to Hogwarts. _Hogwarts is my home_! Stay with you over the summer, yes, but I will not stay away from Hogwarts for my school!” He snarls even as his magic lashes out.

 

“You are not safe there!” Voldemort sneers. “Or have you forgotten I am responsible for your protection. Have you forgotten the troll, the cerberus, the basilisk, the dementors and werewolves, the dragons and assassins, the ministry teacher who used a blood quill and your Head of House only told you to ‘keep your head down’? Who there has ever protected and helped you?!”

 

“Albus Dumbledore has!” Harry shouts. “All the while you tried to kill me and Dumbledore has always protected me!”

 

“All those things happened under Dumbledore’s crooked nose. If he cannot stop me from harming you even when you are at the _Safest Place in Britain_ , then what guarantee do I have he will be able to protect you from anyone else?” Voldemort points out, even as his own magic unfurls to pressurize the air in the study.

 

“Oh? Then have you decided to no longer not kill me?” Harry mocks. “All those happened because you wanted to kill me. You, who call yourself the most powerful Dark Wizard of the century. If after 5 years, you’ve still been unable to kill me when I am at Hogwarts, then I’m sure that speaks volumes about Dumbledore’s ability. And since you say you no longer want to kill me, then that means I’m safer than ever, right?”

 

“No!” Voldemort growls. “You are not going! We are not having this discussion again!”

 

Harry snarls and leaves the study, his magic banging the doors closed behind him. He stays in his room or the library and avoids the Dark Lord completely for a week. Eventually, Minky comes and tells him of Voldemort’s summons.

 

“Master Lordy just wants to talksies.” The house elf pulls her ears. “Its just talksies or else Number Four will go boomsey, Master Lordy says.”

 

Anger curls in his gut, but Harry obediently follows the elf to the study he had stormed out of last week.

 

“What is it?” He asks the calmly sitting Dark Lord. “Were you so eager to see my face? You have _lots_ of time to do it now that I’m not going to Hogwarts.”

 

“Sit, Harry.” Voldemort gestures towards the chair with one elegant hand. “I have thought about your request and you can go to Hogwarts, provided we can come to a compromise.”

 

“I…” Harry is taken aback. “I can go to Hogwarts?” He sits down in shock and looks at the Dark Lord. “Compromise? What do you want in exchange?”

 

“At first, I wanted to go along as the Defense teacher, but Dumbledore would never agree to it and I would never place myself in a position of subservience to him.” Voldemort says. “But then, I changed my mind. My primary concern is your safety. Hence, the first condition is for you to always wear protections I’ll give to you. Willingly wear it.”

 

“What protections? I want to know that first before agreeing.” Harry frowns and asks.

 

“We shall discuss that later. For now, rest assured that I will swear those charms will only be there for your protection and not harmful, painful or even lethal to anyone in any way. Do you agree?” Voldemort narrows his eyes.

 

“Fine.” Harry nods. “Swear on it and I will agree.”

 

“Excellent.” The Dark Lord beams. “The second condition is that you will send me pensieve memories of your day, every day before going to sleep.”

 

“What?!” Harry shrieks. “No way, no how, you creep! My day is private and my memories my own!”

 

“This is not negotiable, Harry.” Voldemort chides. “I need those memories to make sure I can detect any threat to your well being that may have been ignored by you previously.”

 

“No. Just... No.” Harry swallows. He looks at the determined face of the Dark Lord and whispers. “A compromise.” He says. “Not daily. Monthly. And only the highlights of the month.”

 

“Weekly.” Voldemort counters. “I will not budge on this. Weekly memories of the most important events of your week.”

 

“Weekly.” Harry agrees, for he is being allowed to go to Hogwarts, all for the price of some memories and additional protection.

 

They get down and finalize the details of the protection and communication methods between them. Then they swear on it and by now, the day is over for both of them.

 

“Harry.” Voldemort says as he stands up and walks in front of the green eyed boy. “Harry.” He whispers and threads long fingers in unruly black locks. “I hope you are happy now.”

 

“Ah, yes.” Harry says awkwardly, even as the feel of the Dark Lord’s hands and vaguely affectionate gesture warms his core. “I get to go to Hogwarts, so it’s all good. Thank you for agreeing to a compromise.” He smiles up at him and the Dark Lord freezes, his eyes fixed on the boy’s face. “What?”

 

“Your Hogwarts supplies are in your room.” Voldemort’s voice is hoarse even as his fingers tighten momentarily. “Minky has moved your new supplies in your closet. Let me know if you need anything. I…” His fingers loosen and they pat and soothe the ache away. “I take my role as your guardian seriously and only want to take care of you Harry.”

 

“It is a little difficult to remember that when you’ve tried to kill me for 15 years of my life. And have been responsible for the death of most of my family.” Harry points out wryly even as he pushes down the urge to lean into those soothing hands.

 

“You no longer have to fear me and mine.” Voldemort says. “One day, you will remember it. One day soon, I will make sure you believe it.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Harry shakes his head and pushes away pale hands as he stands. “Don’t hold your breath.”

 

***********

 

Hogwarts is as he remembers it, welcoming and warm. Dumbledore calls him to his office the day after the Welcoming Feast to ask after him and Harry tells him of their compromise.

 

“I just have to wear his protective pieces,” Harry points to the earrings, necklace, bracelet and an ugly ring he is wearing, “and send weekly memories of my the most important events in exchange for being allowed in Hogwarts. We even magically swore on it, so it’s all good.”

 

Dumbledore stares at the ring and looks up at him, his face set in a resigned expression.

 

“I see.” He says. “Harry, my boy, I had some meetings planned for us, but it seems like I cannot, in good conscience do that if you are sworn to send your important memories to him on a periodic basis.” Those blue eyes seem to bore into him, judging him and disappointed in him. “Further, I will have to ask you to not ask details about the Order from Miss Granger, Misters and Miss Weasley, Remus or any staff too. Your oath means that any information you come across will also get sent to Voldemort.”

 

“Is this how this year is going to be too?” Harry narrows his eyes. “Last year, you ignored me, hid things from me and banned my friends from even so much as writing to me. The staff ignored Unbridge and her unfair detentions and did not care about our education even if it was our OWL year. Your hiding things from me led to my Father’s death! This year, I don’t even get to ask?” Harry stands up incensenced. “Fine. See if I care about the bloody prophecy too!”

 

He ignores Dumbledore’s voice as he storms out of the office.

 

*********

 

Without the distraction of Voldemort’s death threats, Order’s concerns and his new found popularity, Harry had an excellent term. Snape, the greasy git was the new DADA professor and someone named Horace Slughorn was the new Potions Professor. Slughorn was a huge improvement on Snape, the Half-Blood Prince’s annotated book an even bigger help in improving his Potions skills and grades. Snape, on the other hand, was a much better teacher in the theoretical aspect of Defense than Quirrell, Lockhart and Umbridge put together. His practical teaching left much to be desired, for the dour man was as biased of a teacher of Defense as he had been in Potions.

 

By the time Christmas came around and the term was nearing its end, he even got another date with Cho. There was a last minute kiss before the Christmas holidays, a goodbye kiss and it was a much better kiss this time around, and Harry was high on happiness when he reached the manor to spend his Winter vacations with Voldemort.

 

“What has you so happy, my Harry?” Voldemort asks even as he puts an arm around the boy to steady him after the Portkey travel. The arm tightens as Harry tries to pull away and the man gently guides him to the Parlor.

 

“I had an excellent term.” Harry grins up at the Dark Lord. The man’s nearness is distracting, the heat from this affectionate gesture warming his already giddy insides. “Thanks for not trying to kill me.”

 

“Of course, it is only proper.” Voldemort tilts his head in acknowledgement. “But that cannot be the only reason for it.” They stop in front of the double doors leading to their destination.

 

Voldemort turns, even as he keeps his arms around the green eyed boy and Harry looks up nervously, for the Dark Lord is too close _… too close…_ And those arms engulf him, even as the older man bends down, red eyes peering into his own. “Tell me Harry, what is the reason for your happiness? Surely, I cannot be the reason for that pretty smile on your face and that blush on your neck.” He coaxes, his head tilting and voice crooning, hot breath tickling his ears. “Tell me the reason why. Who is it?”

 

“Ah…” Harry stutters. “It… It was…Some space please!” He pushes his palm against the Dark Lord’s chest, trying to put some distance in between them. The Dark Lords hums, the sound rumbling in his ear and pulls back, but his arms are still around the boy.

 

“I had a date with Cho. And then she kissed me later.” Harry blushes red even as he turns his head to look at the Dark Lord. “She was my first crush and my first kiss, you know? And this time, it was even better than the last time! Last time was just wet.”

 

“The joys of youth. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” The Dark Lord says as he removes his hands. “I would like a memory of the last week. You came here before our scheduled exchange and hence, please send it to me before tonight.”

 

“Sure. Spoil my fun, why don’t you.” Harry grumbles.

 

“And then tomorrow.” Voldemort continues even as he opens the doors, red eyes flashing with an unknown emotion. “Tomorrow, we are going to France. I am taking you shopping. You are my ward now, and your attire and bearing is atrocious. Only the best for you, my precious.”

 

“I am not your pet.” Harry snaps even as he feels the heat creeping up his neck from the man’s endearment.

 

“No you are not.” Voldemort agrees in a mild tone. “Does not mean you are not my precious.”

 

“As long as you keep that in mind.” He grumbles.

 

**********

 

The Yule Holidays, for Voldemort has ensured Harry knows the proper terms and history behind their holy days, are a treat and a joy. Harry is sure he dreamed up most of it, for the Dark Lord was tender, caring and indulgent throughout. He got Harry lots of clothes, books and even jewelry, food of all types and tastes and Harry feels more spoiled than Dudley must have in 16 years.

 

He is happy, content and completely forgot about Cho until a month in the new term. When he asked Marietta, she replied that Cho’s father had a transfer and they had to go back to China. Harry just shrugged, sent her a letter and put her out of his mind.

 

The second term went just as well as the first term did. Sure, by now the distance between Harry and Ron, Hermione and Neville had increased and they rarely talked, but he did have some very riveting conversations with Luna, Padma was just as intelligent and practical as Hermione and Terry the type to support an adventure but only with planned preparations beforehand, unlike Ron. He missed his old friends, old relationships, but letters with Remus had assured him that was not his fault. It was the natural progression of time and Harry cherished his memories all the same.

 

The day before the Hogwarts Express left, their second last day of the term, Ron cornered Harry alone in their dorm.

 

“Harry, mate.” Ron said, determination filling his eyes. “Dumbledore may say that we should not tell you anything, or that trying to save you is futile because You-Know-Who always checks your memories. But you were my first friend, mate. You stood with me against Malfoy, you saved my sister and my father, helped the twins with their shop and always forgave me whenever I was a idiot and hurt you. You-Know-Who can’t hurt you till your 17th Birthday, but there is no guarantee for afterwards. Here.” He presses a button in Harry’s hand. “This Portkey will take you to Order Headquarters and will activate at exactly midnight on your birthday. If you ever feel unsafe, then come home, Harry. Come back to us. We will always wait for you.”

 

“Thanks Ron.” Was all a confused Harry could squeeze out before Ron left the dorm.

 

**********

 

The manor was just as he remembered from Yule time. Voldemort still invaded his personal space, lingering touches and wondering gazes always on him. The man held true to his word from last year, for he never saw any Death Eaters. The Dark Lord still called him his precious, gave him everything he needed before he even thought about it and it was always the best of everything too.

 

Weeks passed in lazy bliss, summer homework over in the first week of the holidays and warm conversations over breakfast, lunch and dinner.

 

This peace lasted until the day his grades arrived and the Dark Lord looked at them.

 

“Why is your Defense grade merely an Acceptable, Harry?” Voldemort asks him curiously. “I thought it was your best subject? Barty’s reports from your fourth year certainly said so.”

 

“Because of Snape, the bloody, greasy git.” Harry grits out. “He hates my father, and by relation hates me too. My Potions grades were just as abysmal when he taught the subject. I only got an EE in Potions OWL through self-study and Hermione’s help.”

 

“Precious.” Voldemort croons as he wraps his arms around the seething boy. “Do you mean to say that Severus is deliberately sabotaging your grades? Impacting your education? And you did not tell me? I did not see any of his class memories in those you sent me.”

 

“It’s just Snape.” Harry grumbles. The Dark Lord’s nearness does not unnerve him any longer, for it is an everyday occurrence that he pats his head soothingly, wraps his arms around him to guide Harry around the manor and pulls the black haired boy to lay on his lap when they’re both reading in the library. A hug is tame in comparison to the way those fingers twine and sooth his head, caress his face as he lay on the man’s lap, the older wizard’s soft voice carrying him to a comfortable sleep.

 

“That is not a valid reason, my Harry. Severus should know better.” Voldemort points out and pulls him closer still. “It is an opportune day, for Severus should be coming to report to me right about now.”

 

“Is that so?” Harry pulls back from the embrace. “And why is it opportunate?”

 

“Because now I can ask him the reason for his actions and punish him accordingly to ensure this does not happen again.” Voldemort says, pulling the boy closer yet again.

 

“No!” Harry grumbles from where his face is buried in the Dark Lord’s chest. “It’s just Snape. I can handle it.”

 

“I have seen your memories, my precious. Potions is a dangerous subject and his reticence and insults simply meant that students would think twice before making any mistake. It may be possible that you have no talent for it, and hence Snape was harsher than normal on you. But this bias carrying over to Defense classes too? It is not proper. I will protect and care for you, remember? Let me take care of it and I will ensure he does not repeat his mistakes.” Voldemort reluctantly pulls away from the boy in his arms and looks in his eyes. “Leave it to me.”

 

There is a knock on the door before Harry can reply and he pulls away completely to maintain a polite distance between the two.

 

“Enter, Severus.” The Dark Lord calls softly. Severus Snape enters and bows.

 

“My Lord.” He says reverently. “What may I do for you today?”

 

“Rise, Severus.” The Potion Master rises from his bow, his eyes flicker and take in the room, lingering just a bit more on Harry. “It has come to my attention that you have been deliberately sabotaging Harry’s Defense grades and your verbal abuse has continued throughout the year. Tell me why.” The Dark Lord asks nonchalantly, his hands twirling his wand.

 

“Because he is just like his father. Arrogant, spoiled brat. Attention seeker and always complaining when something doesn’t go his way. He doesn’t deserve-” Snape snarls out.

 

“ _Crucio._ ” The Dark Lord intones softly, and the greasy haired man collapses in pain mid-sentence.

 

Harry stares, shocked at his most hated Professor being tortured in front of him.

 

“Stop! Voldemort, stop!” Harry takes a quick step forwards and closes the distance between them. His hand clings to the man’s wand arm, his green eyes looking at the Dark wizard beseechingly. “Don’t torture him because I complained.”

 

Voldemort doesn’t stop his curse as he turns to look at the smaller arm holding his own, his eyes raising up to meet moist, pleading green and he stares at his precious boy, taking in the sweet mix of despair and determination.

 

“I am not doing this because you complained.” The Dark Lord explains, his voice hoarse, heart skipping a beat as those green eyes never leave his own and a hot warmth spreading from the hand gripping his own. “I am doing this so he doesn’t repeat this behavior again.”

 

The green eyes turn away from his in silent helplessness and the elder wizard’s other arm rises to hug the teen close to him.

 

“Look at me, my precious.” He coaxes and the unruly black head rises to let red meet green again. “That’s it, dearest.” He croons and tugs the boy closer, under his arm on by his side. “You are important to me. I care for you. I want to make sure he doesn’t repeat his behavior and hurt you again. Physically you may be fine, but I have seen those emotional scars, Harry. That man not only debased you from day one, he also verbally abused you for no rational reason. He caused your deteriorating interest in one subject and was going to do so to another. He mind raped you, Harry. I have seen those Legilimency lessons. And while I have also attacked you through the same, keep in mind we were both enemies at the time. He was not. He was supposed to care for you, to nurture your talents and encourage your growth. He did not.”

 

“It’s just Snape.” Harry repeats. “Please stop torturing him.” The boy buries closer, his voice trembling and Voldemort can feel himself giving in. “ _Please_.”

 

“If not yourself, then think of the others. Today, it is you he is degrading because of circumstances beyond your control. Tomorrow, it will be someone else in your place. Some innocent first year Gryffindor, a shy Hufflepuff or a too curious Ravenclaw. What then?” He tries again to convince his boy.

 

“Then the Professors at Hogwarts will deal with it.” Harry points out. “ _Please_.” He pleads again and Voldemort gives in.

 

The curse is lifted and the Potion Master lays there on the floor, trembling and bleeding.

 

“Severus. I am letting you go for now. But if this behavior repeats itself, then I shall not be as merciful.” The Dark Lord explains.

 

“Thank you, my Lord.” Severus Snape says as he crawls to kiss the hem of Voldemort’s robes. “I will keep your lesson in mind always, my Lord.” He says as he stands and bows again.

 

“Another thing, Severus.” The Dark wizard intones as he resheaths his wand. “Harry is not his father. He is not James Potter. He is also not his mother. Harry is Harry Potter and never treat him otherwise.” The Potion Master looks up at those words, his eyes meeting Harry’s. Voldemort narrows his eyes at this display and steps forwards, breaking the line of sight between the Professor and his Chosen One.

 

“You may go now.” He orders and Severus Snape is visibly all too relieved to finally leave.

 

Harry, on his part, is not sure whether he feels relieved or terrified. Voldemort had just tortured Snape for him. On his words and to make sure that he doesn’t degrade Harry again.

 

Dumbledore had not believed him, always defending Snape in his first year, never speaking out a word in support of him in second year and always interrogating him, asking “Do you have anything you would like to tell me?”

 

No one had stepped in to prevent the bullying when the situation got worse in his second and fourth years. Heck, even Ron and Hermione had abandoned him in his fourth year, giving only empty words of apologies in exchange for his pain.

 

Mcgonagall had only given him a biscuit and 6 words when he tried to complain about Umbridge and the Blood Quill.

 

She and Hagrid had laughed away his suspicions about the Philosopher’s stone in his first year too.

 

The less said about betrayals and lack of support in third year, the better.

 

And here Voldemort was, taking Harry at his word and resolving the situation at the first possible opportunity. Something no else has done for him before.

 

Voldemort thought he was not his parents. This was the first time someone had said that to him. Even Sirius and Remus had often remarked on it.

 

Harry is not sure whether the warmth in his heart and giddiness in his stomach is due to happiness or fear, of what Voldemort could and would do for him and maybe to him too.

 

All this just added to Harry’s paranoia, Ron’s words lingering in his mind and the button burning his pockets. The day before his birthday had Harry waking up from an uneasy sleep, suspicion and paranoia fueling his thoughts. He packed up all his belongings and sneaked food for future use from the kitchens.

 

Voldemort, on the other hand, seemed to be calm, happy and content. He showered Harry with gifts, the impromptu banquet having his favorite food on the menu and an outing with Luna, Padma and Terry filling his afternoon.

 

It all came to a head when, after dinner and before bed time, Voldemort called him to his office.

 

“My precious Harry.” Voldemort says fondly as he takes his customary seat across the Dark Lord. “Happy Early Birthday.”

 

“Thank you.” Harry replies uneasily, the anticipation of their conversation weighing heavily on him.

 

“I have observed you since the start of the vacation, dearest. And I came to the conclusion that you are uneasy about what will happen when you reach your majority. Let me lay your worries to rest.” Voldemort continues ignoring Harry’s rapidly tensing body and the hand in his pocket clenched around the portkey button. “First, please remove and throw away that portkey that Mister Weasley gave you.”

 

“What?” Harry croaks, even as his hands clench around the button tighter.

 

“I know, Harry. I did not mention it before, as I thought that an alternate get away option would put you at ease, but that was not to be. Please, remove and let go of the portkey.” Voldemort puts his wand on the table, tip pointed towards himself. “See? I mean you no harm.”

 

“You knew?” Harry whispers. He removes the button from his pocket and throws it on the ground. It is near enough, however, to reach out with his leg under the chair and touch it if necessary.

 

“Now that we are done with that.” Voldemort continues. “In case I haven’t made it clear by my words and actions before, you are precious to me, Harry. Not as a pet, not as merely a child, but still precious, my dearest. I have grown fond of you, find the idea of killing you repugnant and the thought of you coming to harm fills me with anger unlike any I’ve experienced before. Which is why,” The Dark Lord reaches out in a drawer and pulls out a bound stack of parchment. “To reassure you, here is a contract stating the same. In exchange for staying with me, as my companion and always in line of sight, I will protect you, care for you and consider any opinion you have before taking any decision about subjects that concern you.”

 

“Excuse me!” Harry straightens in his seat from the shock. “Did you say you have a magically binding contract stating that you won’t kill me if I agree to continue our current arrangement?”

 

“Yes, Harry.” Voldemort explains patiently. “Read through it and let me know. We have lots of time before midnight tonight.”

 

And so Harry reads the most ridiculous set of conditions and constraints in the contract than he has ever read in his life, which unfortunately includes his History of Magic essays on Goblin Wars.

 

“You will not kill me or take any deliberate, direct or indirect action that would result in my getting unwillingly harmed?” Harry asks as he reads the first condition.

 

“Yes, important things first, after all. And if the circumstances demand it, who knows, you might enjoy a bit of harm and pain.” The Dark wizard explains patiently.

 

“I have to spend my days as your companion? And you will consider any opinion I have before taking any decision about subjects that concern me.” He asks incredulous.

 

“You will not be my ward any longer, so companion seems like the correct word.” The Dark Lord says. “And taking your opinion into consideration would mean having a fresh perspective to resolve any situation.”

 

“You will feed, clothe and protect me? Take steps to ensure my continued health and comfort?” Harry reads on, his disbelief growing.

 

“I did say I have grown used to taking care of you. And I am fond of you so keeping you in good health and comfort seems ideal.” Voldemort explains.

 

“Wait! This here says, you will have the first and final say for any potential girlfriend, suitor or mistress I have. I will have to get your approval for any _activities_ with qualified individuals and that you retain the right to monitor such interactions.” Harry points out. “This is ridiculous! I refuse!”

 

“My precious, keep in mind that any such individual would also have to live with me in this manor. Being my companion would mean that you would rarely, if ever, leave my sight. Isn’t it only right, then, that I have a say in whom you have any relationship with and what you do during that relationship.” Voldemort coaxes.

 

“As if!” Harry snaps. “Don’t rationalize this, Voldemort. If that were the case, then I should also have a say in any such relationships you have!” Voldemort stares at him for a while.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. I am a nearly 70 year old man, you are barely out of your teens. My getting your opinion on any relationship I have would not be proper.” Voldemort reasons.

 

“Well, for the exact same reasons, a 70 year old man having any say in my relationships, let alone _monitor_ them, is utterly insane. No! If you get to do this to me, then I get to do the same to you!” Harry crosses his arms and stubbornly refuses to even read any further.

 

“Very well.” Voldemort sighs. He takes the contract and amends the conditions. “Now we both have a say in the other’s relationships and the right to monitor them.”

 

“Fine.” Harry gives in and continues to read the contract, with Voldemort explaining terms and phrases he doesn’t understand the reason for.

 

The clock chimes 12 even as Harry finishes reading the contract and they’re done finalizing it.

 

“Well.” Harry says as Voldemort hands him a Blood Quill. “Here’s to future partnership.” He says as he signs it. The contract flashes blue and Harry hands over the Quill to the Dark Lord.

 

The Dark Lord accepts it and stands, walking around the desk to stand besides Harry’s chair.

 

“To our future together, my dearest.” He croons and bends down to sign the contract. The contract flashes again, acknowledging the approval of both parties. However, it still just sits there idly on the desk and Harry is confused.

 

“Did it not take hold?” He asks as he looks up at the Dark Lord, fear and panic churning in his gut.

 

“Oh Harry.” Voldemort sighs and kneels down in front of him. Even kneeling, the Dark Lord is eye-to-eye with the green eyed boy. “The contract took hold.” Long, pale fingers come up to cup an angled face. “We just have to seal it with a kiss.”

 

“What?” He whispers as red eyes come closer, slowly, giving him a chance to back away.

 

And Harry does not choose to, for even as he is shocked and unsure and confused still of what this means, that man whose breath is hot on his cheeks, and tongue soft on his lips, is the one who cares for him, protects him and sees Harry as just Harry. Not James and Lily’s son, not the Chosen One, not a brat or child, but just Harry.

 

Harry groans at the first touch of soft lips, his hands rising to clutch the Dark Lord’s robes. Lips slide and a hot tongue dips in as Harry whimpers at the feeling. One hand is on his hair, tugging and pulling their face closer, another tilting his head up to deepen the kiss, his own releasing black robes to encircle and hold onto Voldemort’s neck.

 

He is not sure how long they kissed, and how his shirt is now unbuttoned, elegant fingers mapping the contours of his chest, but eventually the Dark Wizard pulls back and looks down at moist green eyes, one hand still buried in disheveled hair.

 

“Did you think I was going to let you go, my precious?” Voldemort says softly.

 

Finally, his mind clears at those words and the strange contract and endearments make sense.

 

“That was a marriage contract. You tricked me.” Harry laughs, hysteria bubbling up at the situation. “Dark Lord Voldemort tricked the Chosen One to marry him.”

 

“Yes.” Voldemort looks very pleased, preening almost, at the deception he managed to pull off. “I did tell you so beforehand, did I not? You are my most precious, my dearest and I want you as my companion, to protect and care for and never let you out of sight.”

 

Harry just laughs harder and pulls his Dark Lord closer into a kiss.

 

He has no idea why he is accepting of the man’s affection. He has killed Harry’s parents, is the leader of the pureblood movement and is indirectly responsible for every misfortune and pain in his life since his birth.

 

But this was the same man who has done a better job of protecting and caring for him than Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. When they were enemies, they were enemies who hated each other with all they had. And now, when the Dark Lord cares for him, hasn’t he done so with all his heart? Then isn’t it only natural for Harry to want to return this affection with all his heart too?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated ~


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